Full of Joy
by ChekhovTheTroper
Summary: She has to do it…she has to do it…my interpretation of the Nurse Joy creepypasta


**DISCLAIMER: ****_Pokémon_**** is not in my possession, and neither is the creepypasta that inspired this story. The only Poké-possession I have is the Lavender Town-induced nightmare that I had last night :/**

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When Nurse Joy sees the trainer walk into the lobby, she knows exactly what to do. She greets him, although the greeting is rehearsed. He givers her his Poké Balls, and they are packed inside the machine behind her. Nurse Joy takes some secretive notes on the trainer's physical appearance. He looks healthy enough for the job, as the other Joys have alerted her. He's had a few good scares along the way, but nothing leaves him visibly disheveled.

"Can I take your Pokémon to another room so they can be healed and rested?"

He complies, but the bovine expression on his face almost makes Nurse Joy laugh. She does not have to cajole any further. Chansey takes the trainer's Pokémon to another room. Nurse Joy punches a few numbers into the electronic kiosk, humming a genial nursery rhyme under her breath…_kono basho ga suki desu ka_…the kiosk ejects a laminated card with a specific room number typed in. She turns to him with chipper redundancy in her voice.

"Now, then," Nurse Joy slides the card across the desk. "Would you like me to assign you a room?"

"I don't know," the trainer shrugs. "I'm fine, though, so I don't think—"

"Oh, don't be afraid," Nurse Joy wheedles, her voice skewing into an unconvincing lilt. "I assure you, you'll be up and at 'em before the week's out!"

"But isn't the week out by tomorrow?"

"Exactly! Here, at the Pokémon Center, the trainers get to spend the night with no extra charge!"

"Really?" The trainer laughs. "That's not the kind of deal I got in Vermillion City. The nurse at the Poké Center there said I had to pay fifty yen extra!"

"Oh, did she? Humph, my sisters can get so greedy, sometimes. Then again, it's better than listening to them gossip about the attractive trainers they meet."

The trainer laughs again, but with a dubious smile on his face. Nurse Joy is chattering away about her ridiculous family, tapping her jeweled nails on the counter. Jeweled nails? This is new, especially considering the other Joys don't wear makeup. As Nurse Joy prattles on, the trainer scans her eyes. They are bulbous with glee, but her gaze has drooped towards the floor. In the bank of lightbulbs' crisp glow, he can thinly recognize a strange glint in her eyes…

"Sir?"

The trainer flinches, nodding apologetically. Nurse Joy hands him the room card, saunters towards the pneumatic doors, and presses several buttons that are entrenched in the wall. She waves her hand, and he follows nervously, like a child being sent into the classroom during recess. There are very few rooms for such an outstretched hallway, and most of them are Generation Sickrooms, an infirmary for specific generations of Pokémon. Several throngs of Chansey roam around the building, pushing medical carts and gurneys in every which way. The trainer's eyes widen. "Are…are those Pokémon—?"

"Dead?" Nurse Joy replies, walking straight ahead. "Of course not. I've rarely come across any Pokémon fatalities in this Center. However, the ones on the gurneys are going to the operating room for intensive surgery. The worst one I had to deal with was a Bulbasaur whose vine-whips were almost severed from his body."

"Really?"

"Yes! Thankfully, though, I was able to perform the procedure in less than an hour. All I had to do was—"

"Repair the wounded tissue by cauterizing the active blood vessels and secure the wound with surgical skin grafting?"

"Correct! I also had to stitch together the remaining tissue with what, exactly?"

"Stitches, because staples would pierce through the Bulbasaur's flesh and worsen the damage caused to the tissue and cartilage."

"You really know your Pokémon anatomy, don't you? I might as well make _you_ the definitive Nurse Joy!" Nurse Joy laughs, but she can sense the trainer's uneasy expression.

As they finally reach their destination, there appears to only be one Patient's Sickroom. Upon entry, it is unusually empty. There are six beds, a heavyset television, and an accessible PC below it. The windows look shrunken, although that could just be from the slow-approaching sunset. However, the trainer wonders how they would look in broad daylight. Would they grow increasingly, or would they remain tiny? Pointless questions like these always fascinated him, and he doesn't know why.

Nurse Joy guides the trainer towards one of the beds, tucking him in. She hums the same melody, this time with an auspicious impulse amidst her voice. "Why do you always do that?" the trainer asks, picking at the lint balls on his sleeves. When she looks at him perplexedly, he adds: "Why do you always sing that song?"

"It's a family nursery rhyme I was taught when I was a little girl. _Warabe uta_, you would normally call it," Nurse Joy giggles at the thought. "You may find it pretty strange."

"Actually, no. I was just wondering."

"And that's good, too!" Nurse Joy straightens her back, clapping once. "You know, I figured that before you turn in, you should have something to eat! We have some rice-balls and butterflied shrimp if you're not that hungry, or you could order a tray-meal from the menu."

"You serve food here, too?"

"Of course! What hospital doesn't? I mean, what did my sister do to you in Vermillion City? Leave you in a dungeon? She might as well should have with how you're describing her!"

The trainer glances around the room and shrugs, smirking slightly as he speaks. "I'll just have a few rice-balls, then."

"Alright!" Nurse Joy claps again. "I'll assign one of the Chansey to care for you while I attend to some business."

She presses a button on the bedside table, which summons a loud, droning sound. One of the Chansey enters the room. She chirps at the trainer, smiling widely much to his discomfort. Nurse Joy recites the instructions for this Chansey, and its muddled reply amuses her. Before she turns to leave the room, she looks at the trainer and bows respectfully.

"We hope you enjoy your stay here," she whispers before striding out of the room. The door shuts gently behind her. She stalks through the narrow hallway, hands clinging onto tufts of florid pink hair. Her pace quickens until she stumbles from a bent ankle and hits the adjacent wall. She falls to her knees, shielding her face with her hands. In the endless corridor, the shadows have ballooned into a replicated nighttime.

A passerby Chansey comforts her, petting her head and murmuring sadly. Nurse Joy looks up at her, smiling through the unexpected cloud of happy tears.

"I have to do it…I _have_ to do it…"

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**A/N: Sooooo yeah, Pokémon fanfiction...you didn't expect that, did ya? Okay, maybe ya did.**

**Anyway, my friends have told me about this Nurse Joy creepypasta, and I don't think it's half-bad. However, I didn't feel as much medical horror from it as I should have, so I am writing my own interpretation of said pastacreep. I am thinking about writing my own original creepypasta, but I am unsure where to publish it, so I will experiment with this first.**

**This will remain M-rated, and if you want to know why, tune in for the second chapter. As of now, this is the first chapter and be sure to leave a review telling me what you think! :D**

**-Peace from the gun-troper**


End file.
